CHAPTER 2

Draft

Drafting what you wish to say is an important step in creating your strongest possible argument. It is the process of getting your raw ideas and all of your feelings out in the open without such potential negative effects as being misunderstood or letting your emotions get the better of you. In emotional situations, drafting is therapeutic because it gives you an outlet to say what you need while increasing the likelihood of achieving the desired outcome.

Imagine yourself facing the challenge that Michael and I dealt with in the Mauer situation. Our research revealed that there might be a market available to Joe that could have led to a contract of ten years at $30 million a year, perhaps more. Of course, this assumed he stayed healthy and performed at his MVP level for another full season before entering the free agent sweepstakes. If his performance declined in the following season, he could suffer a decline in his market value. That is similar to someone thinking about selling her house at the height of real estate values in 2007—then waiting another year for an even higher market value only to discover that the bubble had burst. We also had some negotiation principles to follow, such as trying to get the first offer from the existing team. The Twins did offer Joe an extension of five years at $18 million a year. Using the aim high with reason principle, we had wanted to make an offer that we sensed might well be beyond anything the Twins, even with their new stadium, would absorb within their payroll framework. We (including Joe) all had strong opinions about what he was worth.

We also knew that Joe wanted to stay in Minnesota for the long haul. He grew up in Minnesota and lived there, as did most of his family. The Twins drafted him first overall and he loved the fans and the community that supported the team, but he was also curious to discover how other teams perceived his value and what it would be like to test the market for the first and maybe only time in his career.

After probing and ascertaining that the club understood Joe might command $30 million a year in the open market—and weighing the risks of waiting for the market and consulting with Joe—we decided upon an ask of a nine-year extension at $27 million a year, for a total of $243 million. While that may not have been our final figure, every principle of good negotiating suggested it was appropriate. It was akin to the practice of listing a house for an asking price above what might ultimately be an acceptable selling price. If the price is too unreasonable, there is a risk of scaring away potential buyers. For this reason, it is essential to have a well-researched basis justifying the first offer. In Joe’s case, he was a rare commodity—a catcher with the best offensive and defensive skills in the game, a team leader, and the holder of several major-league hitting records at a young age. As a result he was the most unique potential free agent of the crop, with his primary market risk being that of an injury.

While Michael and I knew our initial counterproposal for $27 million a year was well beyond where the Twins had suggested they might go, the key was to remind them that the team would have to raise their ceiling in order to keep Minnesota fully competitive. At the same time, we decided we did not need to further convince the Twins that Joe on the free agent market could command a historic contract in the $300 million range. We also wanted to include in the conversation a player option, which would allow Joe to terminate the contract if the team did not stay competitive. Winning—and playing in the World Series—was important to Joe. This provision was likely to stir negative reactions in the club.

After researching all considerations, Michael drafted a short and simple script that we would ultimately shape for use in a meeting with the Twins’ senior vice president and general manager, Bill Smith:

Bill, your proposal of a 5-year extension at $18 million a year is unacceptable. Joe has a chance to get twice that in the free agent market, and is unwilling to give so much up to do a deal now. While he might consider a hometown discount, it would be more in the range of several million dollars, and the contract would also require an option out for Joe and a strong package of performance incentives as well as trade protection. Joe’s unique achievements certainly warrant that.

After the draft was completed, but well before the delivery, it needed to be vetted in the devil’s advocate step. The initial draft laid the foundation and forced us to sort through the various ways—long, short, story laden, etc.—to proceed. For example, should the script be brief and to the point, illustrated by stories, or lengthy and full of detail? The initial draft was fairly blunt, lacking in specifics, and perhaps too brief. Devil’s advocacy would correct that.

So the first step—draft—does not require much more than translating your views into a rough position statement to sketch out what you want to express to the other party without worrying much about whether it is the best way to say it.

Our Mauer strategy has a variety of everyday applications. Take someone suffering a problem common to today’s workplace—a woman whose work schedule has been cut from forty to thirty-two hours a week along with a reduction in compensation. She was told how important she was to the organization, but that her reduction was for economic reasons. Let’s call her Lindsay. Her job was to sell and manage events at her company’s facility.

In the summer of 2011, Lindsay contacted me with her problem. She was frustrated and angry enough to demand that she be restored to full pay, yet insecure enough to feel that she should not rock the boat. Lindsay had also recently been informed that her son Tyler, who was beginning his freshman year at the University of Maryland in the fall, did not receive the financial aid package they had hoped for. The amount of money needed to support her son’s education was now going to become a debt that would only increase annually. Tyler’s current part-time job as a waiter would not cover the remaining tuition, and Lindsay did not want Tyler to further divert his attention from his studies. Lindsay was concerned that her son would not have the college experience she had hoped for while following his dream of becoming an architect.

I suggested that she script out what she would like to say to have her hours and pay restored. I told Lindsay not to worry about what she said in the draft script, but rather to simply express her feelings and desires.

Lindsay was full of excitement when she brought her draft to me. She felt she had artfully presented all of her concerns on how she was being treated by her boss and she hoped for my quick approval of her “brilliant” statement. In actuality, she, not unlike others I have dealt with, provided me with a wordy draft shaped more by emotion than reason.

Here is her initial draft (I have condensed it for our purposes and, as with many of the scripts in the book, made minor corrections and omitted the company’s name):

It is my hope that my dedication and commitment to the company is abundantly clear to management. Since the cuts last year in March, I have given everything I had to make sure events and their execution would be beyond successful—I don’t think anyone would question that success.

Over the past year and a half I have put my own personal and financial well-being at risk by going far, far beyond the call of duty in my commitment to the company. By the sheer nature of my responsibilities at the company it means that my work hours continually change and that I must work many weekends and evenings . . . I work seven days a week in odd jobs to manage the cuts made to my hours and salary. By observations of family and friends I am told that I work entirely too much and that it is unhealthy to not be fairly compensated for all the time I give . . . When I am not in the office I am still always taking calls, being responsive to needs, and keeping balls moving through my personal cell phone and my home office. It is part of my core being to give all I have to give without thinking of much in return. As I grow professionally and personally I am recognizing that it is only right to be fairly compensated . . .

It is unreasonable to expect of me to work as a salesperson and events manager to my fullest capacity in balance on part-time hours on a 20% pay cut. It was negligent to a degree to expect me to do this . . . and not recognize a burnout point. In order to perform my role with the company well I must be incredibly responsive and available far beyond the normal workday or workweek. I have done this through sheer faith, the ability to work very hard, and courage of conviction to the company without industry-standard commission compensation of 2%–5% on sales at the very least or even a full-time base salary . . .

. . . I am so far beyond spread thin it is beginning to rattle at my emotional levels of feeling resentment and anger toward the company—feelings I never want to have but they are growing. I don’t know how I can properly carry out sales, staffing and administrative functions while continuing to have a real personal life and making financial ends meet at the end of the month . . .

In addition, I have my son’s future to worry about. At my present rate of pay, I greatly fear we will not be able to afford college and have him live up to his full potential. The amount of support the school has provided him falls short of what we need.

Restoring full-time hours with appropriate salary and compensation will allow me to tap into and grow these areas of income and contribute to the financial well-being of the company even greater than I currently do while being fairly compensated and allow me to meet my financial responsibilities.

Lindsay had stated her case—in words that were sometimes contradictory and emotional. It was clear she believed she was being taken advantage of and was frustrated with her employer. While her underlying anger would be camouflaged in her ultimate delivery script, it served a useful purpose at this stage of releasing stored resentment while beginning to frame her case. It is important to acknowledge such anger—at least to yourself—but not necessarily to act it out. Sometimes the act of writing an angry message or e-mail can be emotionally cleansing. But do not hit the Send button. Anger comes from the heart, but the negotiation strategy—and remember it is just that, a strategy—needs to come from the head.

One man who understood this was Abraham Lincoln. America’s sixteenth president engaged in a similar therapeutic process during the Civil War. When he was disappointed with one of his generals after an unsuccessful battle or other failed military action, he at times would write an angry rebuke to the general. Yet instead of having the letter delivered, he would deposit it in a desk drawer. The act of stating his frustration with the man’s actions gave Lincoln the emotional outlet he needed without deflating his military leadership at a time when he had no alternate in place. So these “Lincoln letters,” as they have been called, became a useful place for venting anger without prematurely taking action.

Unlike President Lincoln, however, Lindsay needed more than a therapeutic release. She needed action almost immediately and hoped that the script she had drafted was the perfect way to ensure she received what she needed. Imagine, then, how Lindsay felt when she saw me pick up my red pen and begin to line through and make notes on what was a powerful presentation. As difficult as it was for Lindsay to watch, I was carrying out my role as a devil’s advocate. Clearly, her initial draft was not intended to be the perfect delivery document. The second phase of the three Ds, Devil’s Advocacy, would improve the draft just as it would for Michael and me in connection with Joe Mauer’s negotiation preparation.

Keep in Mind:

• Drafting is a vehicle for stating any and all thoughts for your message without regard to whether you ultimately use all of them.

• Drafting can be a good safety valve for bottled-up emotions.

• Remember the Lincoln letters.

• Be ready for constructive input.